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Words from the artist’s archive
FOOD COURT THERAPY lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Yeah… another Sunday… Tray in my hand… breathing slow…
Verse 1
Overhead lights buzzing like they know too much Escalator hum drowning out the rush I got here early, soda sweating in my grip Doing those breathing exercises between every sip Heart still racing from the week that tried to win But this food court table don’t judge where you been I save the corner spot, the one with the best view Of the fountain that ain’t worked since 2002
Chorus
Every Sunday at this same food court table We turn our chaos into something stable Cheap fries between us, no clipboard, no fee Food court therapy, the only thing that’s free We laugh through the worst, we cry through the rest If you break down here three weeks in a row They say you get a new life… or at least a new hope Food court therapy… keeping us afloat
Verse 2
You walk in mid-rant, phone still glued to your ear Talking ’bout how he made you feel like background in your own year I slide the fries over, you don’t even say thanks Just keep going ’til the story runs out of gas I tell you ’bout the meeting where my chest got tight How I had to step out and stare at the exit light You nod like you been there, ’cause you probably have We both know the language of almost breaking bad
Verse 3
We started making legends ’bout this plastic table If you cry here three Sundays, something in you gets stable New job application, new block on your phone New version of you that don’t pick up the phone It’s silly as hell but it gives us a frame A story we can step into when the real one feels lame We turn this food court into sacred ground Where two tired people can just sit down
Verse 4
Before we leave we flip the receipts over Write one small thing we gon’ actually do when it’s over You gon’ delete the thread, I’m gon’ send the email We sign our names like it’s a contract we won’t fail It’s small, but it’s movement It’s proof we still trying Even when the week left us both quietly dying
Verse 5
We stand up slow, look back at the table Like it’s a shrine we built in the middle of the mall We know we’ll be back, same time, same spot A little less heavy than the week before got The escalator carries us back to the fight But we carry this table in our chest at night
Chorus
Every Sunday at this same food court table We turn our chaos into something stable Cheap fries between us, no insurance card Food court therapy, healing in the mall We laugh, we cry, we make up new rules If you cry here three times… you get a new you It ain’t official… but it’s the only thing that works Food court therapy… putting in the work
Outro
See you next Sunday… Yeah… see you next Sunday…
Inside the recording
Yeah… another Sunday… Tray in my hand… breathing slow…
Every Sunday at this same food court table We turn our chaos into something stable
See you next Sunday… Yeah… see you next Sunday…
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.